


Watch the Lights

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Choking, Daddy Kink, Diapers, Edging, F/F, F/M, Finger Sucking, Forced Regression, Humiliation, Hypnosis, Mind Control, Mommy Kink, Wetting, baby talk, bottle feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: The Doctor woke up in a strange place with a headache.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Missy, Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	Watch the Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Have some horrible filth that I dredged out of my id like a magnet fisher. You know that one fic on the old Who kink meme, with Ten/Simm!Master? This was pretty inspired by that one.

The Doctor woke up, and it felt as if her head had been stuffed with cotton. Her mouth was dry, and it seemed like every time she shifted her position another stab of pain went through her skull. 

Shifted position. What position was she in? Where was she in the first place? All of her limbs seemed to be a long way off, and it was taking all of her concentration to move them at all. 

She slowly made an assessment, her head still pounding with both of her hearts. Hands and feet still attached, arms and legs, FIngers and toes seemed to work when she wiggled them. She was in _a_ TARDIS, but it wasn’t _her_ TARDIS. The bed was soft, she had no blankets, but she was still warm. 

So warm. 

It was dim, and there were gentle projections on the ceiling that looked a little bit like stars, leaving her eyes glazed over as she stared at them. The stars were captivating, and as she stared at them her whole head seemed to get fuzzier. They pulled her in, and even as she was staring she seemed to be floating away from her body.

The Doctor lost track of her personal assessment, and fell back into the darkness of unconsciousness before she had a chance to pull herself free. 

* * *

“... Mummy’s sleepy girl,” said a voice in the distance, and the Doctor’s brow furrowed. Gentle fingers went to her forehead, delicately smoothing out the indent between her eyebrows. 

The Doctor’s eyes fluttered open, and she yawned. Something fell out of her mouth when she did so. The blurry image hovering over her coalesced into a face. A familiar face. 

“Missy,” was what she tried to say. A bunch of burble came out of her mouth. 

“There’s Mummy’s good baby,” Missy cooed, and there was a hand on the Doctor’s belly, rubbing in a gentle, circular motion. “You’re finally awake - you’ve been asleep for a while, haven’t you?” 

“Missy,” she said again,” and more burbling. A little trail of drool spilling down her chin, ticklish down her neck. 

“Mummy thought she’d let you up for a little bit,” Missy cooed, and the sweet look she was giving the Doctor was… uncomfortable. The Doctor tried to sit up, and found herself weak enough that she just flailed. 

“Missy, what did you do,” was not what came out of the Doctor’s mouth, even if that was what she had intended to say. 

“Yes dear, Mummy is happy to see you too,” said Missy, and she tickled the Doctor’s belly through the soft material of… what? What was she wearing? She wriggled her toes, and found them encased in fuzzy fabric. There was something thick and soft between her legs, and she couldn’t close her thighs. Her eyes were still fuzzy, and her whole body was _weak_ , almost relaxed. 

“Is she up?” There was another familiar voice, and she frowned, trying to remember where she knew that voice. She could see the pretty lights over Missy’s shoulder, and they were drawing her in again. Missy was saying… something, but she wasn’t paying attention - wasn’t noticing _anything_ but the pretty lights, which seemed to make everything that much fuzzier. It was… happening, far off, and she should have cared about it, but _oh_ , look at the greens, the blues, the purples…

A hand on top of her head, ruffling her hair, and it was heavy and warm against her skin. “Is it taking?” A finger was stroking between her eyebrows, then down the bridge of her nose. Her lower lip was tapped, then the finger pushed into it.

She let it rest on her tongue, still staring up at the lights blooming across the ceiling. They were almost like fireworks, growing and shrinking, and she was utterly transfixed. It felt like something in her head was yelling at her to pay attention, that she was missing something important, but that didn’t matter. None of it mattered. 

The finger in her mouth was nice to suck on. There was something soothing about the sensation of moving her cheeks, her tongue pressing against it. When was the last time she’d been this comfortable? Her eyes drooped shut, cutting out the lights, and there were a few moments of panicked thought before she was under again. The last thing she registered was a damp finger tapping her on the nose, and the voices over her talking quietly. 

* * *

“Wakey wakey,” said Missy’s voice, some time later. Or maybe no time? The Doctor’s time sense was all discombobulated, and she blinked her eyes open to be looking up into Missy’s face. 

“Where am I,” she tried to say, but it was all a string of nonsense, burbling syllables. 

“There’s Mummy’s girl,” Missy cooed. She was leaning over the edge of something, and her fingers were soft in the Doctor’s hair, tucking a piece behind one ear. 

“This is a TARDIS,” the Doctor said, because her brain worked better when her mouth was working. 

“Ah-ba-ba,” Missy babbled back at her. “Just as chatty as ever, I see.” 

“What’s going on?” The Doctor managed to sit herself up, her head spinning. Then she flopped back down, jostling her head enough to make her face screw up. _Pain_. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” said Missy, and her voice was like poisoned honey. “Did you hurt your noggin?” She tapped the Doctor’s forehead with her fingertip, and the Doctor winced at the way the sound seemed to ricochet through her skull.

The Doctor’s eyes slid closed, and then Missy was tapping her on the cheek. “No, no, sweetheart, no more naptime.” There was a sliding sound, and then one of the walls of the… cell? Crib? Was she in a crib? How had she not noticed?

“Wake up,” said Missy, and then she was carefully being lifted up by the armpits, sitting her up with her legs dangling down. Her thighs were still spread open from the thickness between her legs, and there was softness under her backside, cushy padding against the firm mattress. She blinked down at her legs, and saw they were covered in fuzzy blue fabric printed with little planets and stars. The fabric covered her feet, and she looked down at her stomach. She lifted a heavy hand up, to press along her stomach, over her chest, and it kept going. 

“Is this your TARDIS?” The Doctor’s head lolled forward, then back, and that was another unpleasant thump. She was drooling, and Missy tsked, wiping her chin with a hanky. “I thought it was still mad at you.”

Missy ignored the Doctor, leaning over the Doctor to get… something that was on the mattress of the crib. “Let’s quiet you down, sweetheart. Mummy can’t think with all that babble.” The rubber nipple of a dummy was pushed into the Doctor’s mouth, and she started sucking unthinkingly. It was… soothing. She’d be mad about it soothing her, but it was too hard for her to _think_. Her head just hurt, and Missy wasn’t doing anything actively malicious.

If she could just get her brains to wrap around whatever it was that she was trying to realize, she’d be okay. Her head tilted back, and she was staring at the ceiling again. The lights were dancing, and she wanted to touch them. She tried to reach one hand up, but her arms seemed to be filled with lead. 

“There we go,” said Missy, carefully adjusting the Doctor’s head. “Let’s have a treat for my special girl, hm?” She was holding… something. What was she holding? The Doctor narrowed her eyes, and she was _still_ drooling down her chin. It was soaking into the collar of her… what was she wearing? She ran her hands along her own chest awkwardly, and it was soft against her palms. She let the dummy drop out of her mouth, and it tumbled down to the floor. 

“Missy,” the Doctor said, “what are you doing?” More garbled, mushy speech

“Oh, sweetie, we need to get a clip for that now that you’re sitting up,” Missy said, leaning down and picking the dummy up. She looked down at it, rubbed the nipple on her sleeve, and pressed it back into the Doctor’s mouth.

“Missy,” the Doctor said,

“Can you say ma-ma?” Missy crouched in front of the Doctor, her hands on the Doctor’s thighs. Her eyes were bluer than blue, and they were like the lights on the ceiling, drawing her in, until she didn’t know where she was or what she was doing. She was floating, and there was drool down her chin and Missy was leaning back and smiling at her with a few too many teeth. 

“Missy,” the Doctor said around the dummy. There was a comfort in sucking on it, and the horrible pain in her head seemed to be lessening as she kept it in her mouth. 

“Such a chatty baby,” Missy said, and the way she was looking at the Doctor could almost be… tenderness. “Now, Mummy’s girl has been very good and not been fighting anymore -”

_Fighting? What fighting?_ The Doctor struggled to remember what it was she was thinking about, as Missy did… something? She had to be doing _something_ , that was what she did, she was the Doctor. Her feet were moving very slowly, and she stared down at her own legs, covered in soft, fuzzy fabric, and her head throbbed in time with her hearts. 

“Look at Mummy,” Missy commanded, and there were Missy’s eyes again, blue as ice and pinning her in place. The dummy was pulled out of her mouth, and a spoon was pressed into it. A soft spoon, and it was covered with something sweet and wet. It was like an explosion on the Doctor’s tongue, and she felt it slide down her throat, her eyes still glued to Missy’s face. 

_At least it isn’t pears_ , the Doctor thought. _Missy would be petty like that._ The sweetness was almost like a hit to the face, and maybe that was why Missy was giving it to her. She opened her mouth when Missy’s mouth opened, and it was like drowning in blue while the sweet mush went on her tongue, down her throat. Her thoughts seemed to be just out of reach, and she was chasing them, but that took all of her concentration. It was easier to look into Missy’s face and let the sweetness explode on her tongue. 

Some time must have passed, because there wasn’t any sweetness on her tongue anymore, and she blinked, trying to get her bearings. Missy was holding… a bottle? It looked like a baby bottle, the nipple bigger than she was used to seeing for human bottles. Or Time Lord bottles. There was the sound of a door opening, and she tried to move her head to see it, but that brought more thudding, and she must have made some kind of protesting sound, because Missy tsked, and pushed her head back, so that she was looking at the projected lights again. 

_There’s some kind of hypnotic suggestion in them_ , she thought dazedly, but she couldn’t pull herself away. _always been good at hypnotism. Peri once…_ She lost the thought, drowning in all the colors. She was floating in something like a void, and the colors seemed to be filling her head like ink in a glass of milk, spreading out and blotting everything else out. 

“What’s going on?” A familiar voice, and it snapped her out of her stupor. She had something in her mouth, and she blinked. There was a nipple in her mouth, and there was cool water flowing down her throat, except now she was paying attention to it, and she coughed, water dripping down her chin, soaking into the fuzzy front of her… what was she wearing, a fuzzy boiler suit with feet? 

“Oh, look at what a mess you made,” Missy scolded, removing the nipple from the Doctor’s mouth and setting the bottle aside. 

The Doctor wrinkled her nose - the wet fabric was sticking to her chest, and it was itchy. When was the last time she’d been out of these clothes? Where was she? She had been thinking about that earlier, hadn’t she?

“Is the baby making a mess?” That was the Master’s voice, and then he was in front of her, his brown eyes thoughtful. 

“That’s what babies do,” said Missy, and she was dabbing at the Doctor’s front with a fabric. “Little moppet can’t help it, can she?”

“What are you lot on about?” The Doctor tried to say, but the garbled syllables splatted out of her. 

“She’ll be talking any day now,” the Master said, and there was a dark delight to his face that made her anxious. She couldn’t remember what it was that she was so anxious about - it was like trying to watch a film in a loud, bright room. 

“Why are you here?” She tried saying it slower, to see if that would help, but it was just more nonsense. 

The Master was going to do… something, and the Doctor followed him, although turning her head made the throbbing that much worse. 

Missy’s hand went to her chin, and her eyes were pointed back up to the ceiling, and she stared at the lights as they circled overhead. She didn’t pay attention to what was happening to her body, because all that was mattered was the light. 

The lights were getting… brighter. Or maybe lower? They were pulsing, slow, deep pulses in time with her hearts, and something was in her mouth again. Rubber that was soft enough that she could press her tongue against, and there was what felt like a plastic shield against her lips. Another dummy? Same dummy? 

“There’s Daddys’ good girl,” said the Master, and his voice was right over her. She blinked at him, as he blocked out the lights. 

“I didn’t see you as the Daddy type,” said Missy.

“Well,” said the Master, and a hand was brushed through the Doctor’s hair, “don’t want to give the baby the wrong impression, do we?”

The Doctor was being… helped up? She was standing up, and her legs shook. She wobbled, the headache throbbing in her skull, ricocheting around her temples, and her stomach was heaving, and then there was Missy, holding on to her hands, arms stretched out in front of her. 

“Like what’s his face in Frankenstein,” she said, and that was more garbled babbling, spilling out of her to splash across her chest. Had they given her something to make her loopier? The Master and Missy were both exclaiming over more babbling, and she did her best to ignore it, gritting her teeth and trying to gather her thoughts. 

“D’you think she’ll be able to walk?” The Master’s hands were on her shoulders, keeping her upright, and she took a wobbly step as Missy took a step back. She was supported by the two of them, and there was something _wrong_ with this, something that she needed to wrap her brains around. Everything was just a moment out of step, and all she wanted to do was _stop_ , to catch up with everything. 

“One way to find out,” Missy said, and her voice was chipper enough that it was like an ice pick to the Doctor’s temple. 

Missy let go of the Doctor’s hands, and she took another step back. The Master gave her another squeeze, and then he was stepping back as well, and she was standing on her own, and the fuzzy bottoms of her odd boilersuit seemed slippery, even on the rug. Her thighs were still forced apart by… whatever was on her lower body, and she stood there, swaying. 

“Come to Mummy, Doctor,” said Missy, and she gestured, wriggling her fingers. 

The Doctor looked at Missy’s fingers, looked at Missy’s face. She took a step forward, then another, and then the lancet of pain that ripped through her head made her overbalance, and she landed down on the carpeted floor on her backside. Her well padded backside, and she probably needed to investigate this, but _oh_ , the pain of being jostled was enough to startle some kind of loud, pained noise out of her. 

“Still too little,” the Master said, and he sounded downright delighted. 

The Doctor was faintly surprised to find tears dripping down her face. She reached up to pat at her cheeks, and her fingertips came away wet. She pressed her fingertips to her tongue, and tasted salt. 

“It’s not as bad as all that, is it?” The Master sat on the ground beside her, and she blinked at him, trying to keep up. When had he come to sit next to her? 

“My head hurts,” the Doctor said, and the fact that it came out all garbled made it even more frustrating. More tears dripping down her face, and then she was just _crying_ , ugly heaving sobs that seemed to make everything shake. 

"Oh sweetheart," the Master said, and his voice was so _sickly_ it made her stomach twist, "you're too little to be walking, aren't you?"

"My _head_ hurts," the Doctor gasped out, and she wasn't sure why she was crying, exactly? She didn't usually cry like this. She'd been emotional, but this felt like there was some deep well that had been sunk down, and it seemed to be pulling more tears out of her, soaking into the collar of her fuzzy boiler suit.

"She needs soothing," said the Master, and he gestured imperiously towards Missy. 

"You don't need to tell me that," Missy said, and she sounded irritated. 

_Of course the two of them are fighting with each other_ , the Doctor thought, as Missy handed the Master... something. The Doctor's head was starting to throb harder, and she covered her eyes, trying to block out the _pain_ , which seemed to be flaring up. It seemed to be getting worse when she had her eyes closed, as if something in her head was trying to get _out_.

"Here we go," said the Master, and he was carefully pulling her hands away from her face. He kissed her forehead, and it was far too tender. It set her skin on edge, and that was enough to pull her out of the fog.

"What's going on?" She tried to say, and he shushed her, arranging it so that her aching head was resting on his thigh. The nipple of the bottle was pressed against her mouth again, and she let her lips open, beginning to suck again. The water was cool as it washed down her throat, and her eyes kept darting between the Master's face as he looked down at her and the lights, still spangling across the ceiling.

It was all so... much. When she looked at the lights, her head didn't hurt. She was... floating, a few inches over her body, and someone was touching her face, tracing the line from between her eyebrows down to the tip of her nose. Her eyes fluttered shut, and the tension she'd been holding in her jaw and her shoulders finally relaxed. She took a deep breath through her nose, and everything seemed to be getting warmer. Some kind of discomfort she'd been holding in her belly let go as well, and the warmth seemed to be concentrated around her pelvis, under her backside.

The bottle was taken away, and his thumb was pressed into her mouth - she traced her tongue along the blunt curve of his thumbnail, feeling the smoothness along the top. He tasted a little like salt, like skin. A bit of nonsense passed through her head - _I love you like meat loves salt_ \- and then she was drifting back to sleep, as Missy and the Master talked quietly with each other about... something. She couldn't keep track of it, and it would probably be a bad idea to fall asleep, but the pain seemed to have died down out of the blue, and the relief was like a dream. 

* * *

The Doctor was woken up by cool air on her legs. There was the sound of a zipper, and something was being done to her legs, something she couldn't seem to stop. She blinked, and the lights were back in her eyes. 

"Poor thing wet a lot," said Missy, and there was the sensation of... wait a minute. 

"What are you doing?" The Doctor tried to sit up, and was held down by the Master's arm across her chest. 

"You need a new nappy," Missy said, and her tone was no nonsense.

"I don't need nappies," the Doctor said, indignant. She squirmed, as there was more cool air on her inner thighs, then her toes. There were snaps around the insides of the legs that she'd missed. 

"She's babbling some more, distract her," Missy said, and then she was patting the Doctor's crotch.

The Doctor frowned, and she was looking down the line of her own body, where her breasts were still covered by the fuzzy fabric, and there was a thick, heavy bulk between her legs. There was a... warmth, puddling under her backside, and she wrinkled her nose as she realized what she'd done. 

"I can't have wet myself. I'd be able to tell if I went myself," she said, distracted. 

"Chatty little thing," the Master said absently. He pressed his fingers into her mouth, tilting her head back, and she was staring up into his face. Something about his eyes drew her in, deeper and deeper. It was almost like drowning. She wasn’t entirely inhabiting her body anymore, and she wasn’t paying attention to what was going on with her lower half. She just lay there, sucking on the Master’s fingers as… something went on below her waist. 

The Doctor gradually became aware of herself again, as something cold swiped across her vulva. She whined in the back of her throat, and the Master brushed her hair out of her face. “I know you’re fussy,” the Master said, in that same soothing tone, “but Mummy is taking good care of you, isn’t she?” 

She tried to say something around the fingers in her mouth - maybe to tell Missy to stop, maybe telling the, to just leave her _alone_ for a little bit, so that she could catch her breath and _think_. 

The fingers in her mouth pressed her face upwards, and she was staring at the lights again. The beautiful lights that opened like flowers, that pulsed like sea creatures. She shouldn’t have been accepting it this easily, should have been fighting harder. But all she was doing was staring as her consciousness got fuzzy around the edges, the fingers in her mouth moving in and out.

The Master and Missy were saying… something. She wasn’t paying any attention, really, just staring at the lights that enveloped her mind like a collection of vines, squeezing her tightly but safely. Her hearts were beating slowly, and her chest was rising and falling with every breath. Her body was getting warmer, and there was a… tension rising in her lower belly, something that made her toes curl and her hips twitch against her will. She blinked, and the pleasure spiked. 

“If you’re a good girl,” Missy was cooing, and now the Doctor could pay attention, “Mummy takes good care of you. Isn’t that nice?” 

There was more warmth across her lower body - something that was building in the pit of her guts, the way her hearts went faster and faster, her breath getting shallower. Missy’s fingers were passing over… that must have been her clit. The Doctor hadn’t been doing much with that part of her anatomy, but Missy’s fingers kept moving over it, again and again. 

“See, Mummy treats you well, doesn’t she?” Missy’s voice again, and the Doctor blinked, tried to get her thoughts in order as she looked between her breasts at Missy, then up at the Master. 

“Not sure I like this,” she tried to say, and the babble was even more garbled.

“What was that, love?” The Master removed his fingers from her mouth, and he patted her cheek with his wet fingers.

She wrinkled her nose - it was sticky. “Not sure I like this,” she said again. 

“Na la la dis,” the Master parroted back at her, and the Doctor frowned, tried again. 

“Not sure I like this,” she said, slower and more carefully. MIssy’s fingers were moving faster, and the heat coiling in the Doctor’s belly seemed to flare up. 

“Fussy little thing,” the Master cooed, and he adjusted her face, to stare at the lights on the ceiling. “Let’s get you back under.”

_What d’you mean, under?_ popped into her mind, but there were fingers at her temples, and she was being engulfed in candyfloss again, swaddling her tightly. 

She stared sightlessly at the lights, and she was aware of her body as a series of nerve endings. One was being stimulated, and she was being drawn closer and closer to whatever it was that they were trying to pull her towards. She was rocking her hips forward, and they were saying words, but the words were just sounds. Distantly, some part of her was screaming to be let out, but it seemed to be getting fainter and fainter. 

Abruptly, the gentle fingers stopped. The Doctor whined, reaching down to rub at the desperate, anxious pulse between her legs. Her arms seemed to be full of lead, and she was clumsy and awkward as she moved. 

“None of that,” the Master scolded, and he held on to her wrist. “That’s not for little babies.”

She didn’t have an answer to that. She didn’t have anything, because the lights were in her eyes now, and she was being spirited out of her body, to float up around the ceiling. Some part of her wanted to squirm and kick, to shove a hand between her legs and _rub_ , but the rest of her was just… floating. Floating, peaceful and calm. 

There was more touching, as she began to calm down. She had fingers in her mouth again, and her head was full of colors, all of her thoughts so hazy, soft and warm. The urgency in her belly returned and she rolled her hips to try to get more pressure, buit… Missy was pulling away again. She was… doing something with the Doctor’s feet? 

“This little piggy went to Gallifrey,” she said, and she was wriggling the Doctor’s toe, “this little piggy went to Earth.” 

“Why would a little piggy go to Earth? It’s an utter shit hole.” The Master pressed his finger into the Doctor’s palm, and her fingers curled around it reflexively. 

“Don’t use language like that in front of the baby,” Missy scolded. “This little piggy killed Rassilion, and this little piggy conquered Earth.” She kissed the Doctor’s toe, and the Doctor squirmed some more. It sent another desperate throb of desperation through her. 

The Doctor probably should have been mad about this, should have gone back against the humiliating baby talk. But she was still floating, and it didn’t seem to matter, when the desperation was starting to die down again. 

Missy’s fingers were on her _again_ , and the Doctor whined, high in her throat and the back of her nose. Missy was rubbing her clit in little circles, and it seemed to take even less time to get to the brink, before Missy was pulling back again. 

Missy was rubbing soft powder into her thighs, across her vulva. The nappy was being pinned onto her, as soft and cushy as a cloud and forcing her thighs open. 

The Master’s fingers were stroking along the line of her nose again, and her eyes fluttered closed, and she was tumbling into sleep. 

* * *

The Doctor was woken up by her respiratory bypass kicking in. The pressure behind her eyes was intense enough that she was afraid they’d pop in their sockets, and her hearts were beating so loudly in her ears she almost couldn’t hear the growling snarl over her head.

“I know you’re in there,” the Master growled, and he was leaning over the rails of the… crib? They had her in a crib? “You’re fooling my younger self, but I was stupid and naive back then.” He gave her throat another tight squeeze. “Say something, Doctor.” 

His mind was shoving at her mind, and she could barely push him out. She tried to say something, but it was just more choked, wheezing babble. 

“Look at this,” the Master said, and he let go of her throat, to stroke along her nose like he had before. “We really have gotten you, haven’t we?”

“Why are you doing this?” She tried to say it carefully, but more baby babble filled the air, whistling and croaking from his squeezing. 

“You must hate this,” he said, and he was… pushing down the side of the crib? “So helpless. So dependent on us.” 

“It’s kinda hard to keep track of it all,” she said, more to speak than because he would understand her.

“Y’know what,” he said, and he was… climbing onto the crib with her? “Let’s see how well that programming has sunk in.” 

“What programming?” She looked up at him, blinking stupidly against the lights on the ceiling. He was… straddling her chest. Why was he straddling her chest? 

“Will you be a good girl for Daddy?” In the dim light, she could just make out him fumbling with the buttons of his trousers. When his cock sprang out of his trousers, she wanted to roll her eyes.

“Really?” She tried to glare at him, but then more of the lights caught her eye, and whatever retort she’d been meaning to make died on her lips. 

The Master’s cock pushed between her lips, and she started sucking without thinking. It was fit for her mouth, and the pounding headache seemed to die away when she had something heavy resting on her tongue. She was drooling, ticklish and damp down her chin and her neck, and the bright lights were beautiful and safe and welcoming. His hands were on her head, bobbing it up and down, and that was starting to jostle her sore head.

She whined, trying to pull away, and he tsked. “Baby doesn’t want her special dummy?” The cruel delight he was taking in the infantile wording wasn’t escaping her, even in the state she was in, and she bit back a snort. Of _course_. 

Him and Missy always went the cruel route, didn’t they? Never could resist the chance to be petty.

“Not that you’re much good at that, when you’re like this,” he said, as he pulled away. The headache was starting in her temples again, and then he was scooting down her body, fiddling with the zipper around her legs. More cool air, and she pressed her thumb into her mouth to soothe herself. 

The lights pulsed and flashed in time with her heartbeat, and with her thumb in her mouth, the pain seemed to have gone down. She was drooling, and she couldn’t seem to stop. She couldn’t seem to stop herself, but it quieted down the desperate, painful throb at her temples. 

The cool air on her vulva made her come back to herself, and then there was… heat? She was being hoisted up, and she blinked over at him, trying to figure out what he was doing. Her backside - bare now, without any nappy - was resting on his thighs, and his cock was rubbing against her. She still had her thumb in her mouth, and she shivered as he kept rubbing her, carefully. 

“Look at you, all helpless like this,” he crooned. His cock gently prodded at her entrance, and her cunt tried to draw him in, as she sucked that much harder on her thumb. He seemed to be wrapping her mind up tighter in candy floss, and it was easier to just lie there and suck her thumb. Her other hand was twisting her hair around and around her finger, and there was a comfort to that too. She didn’t look in his eyes, because somehow when she did that she seemed to drown even deeper. 

“There… we… go…,” he crooned, as the tip of his cock pressed into her, then withdrew. “Already so wet for me. You like it when your Daddy fucks you?” 

She hummed around the thumb in her mouth, and then his words were starting to get all fumbled together, because she was so full of candy floss and cock and the bright, colorful lights. His thumb was on her, right where she was delicate, and she was shaking around him as he pushed himself halfway in, then almost all the way out, then back in again, bottoming out. 

He was saying words, and she stared at his mouth moving, little grunts and gasps being pushed out of her, but otherwise she was just… taking it all in. 

He was still wearing his trousers, and there were smudges of baby powder on them, where her bum was resting on him. He was growing sweaty, his dark hair sticking to his face, and his eyes were wild. His mouth kept moving, but she wasn’t paying attention to that, she was only noticing the coiling in her belly, getting tighter and tighter with every pass of his thumb. 

The Master shoved himself all the way into her, and he was pulsing inside of her, a wash of warmth. He let go of her clit, and she whimpered around her thumb. She pushed a hand down between her legs, and the wetness of his come and her arousal slick against her fingers. Her clit was a hard little nub against her palm, and with the desperation coiling inside of her, she had to do _something_. 

The Master shoved her hand away, and then he was pinning the nappy shut again. He patted the front of it, and he kissed her belly. “Be a good girl for Daddy,” he said, and then his hands were on her temples again, tilting her to look at the lights. She was crushed under the wave of fluffy candy floss and the bright colors of the projected lights. 

She was gone before she even had a chance to blink. She was distantly aware of him zipping her back up, and then kissing her on the forehead. Then there was the sound of the crib rails being pulled back up, and she was out like a light.


End file.
